Under His Spell
by MasterYodaOfYaoi
Summary: When Loki and Agent Barton - still under the god's control - have a moment to spare, they end up discussing a certain blond-haired Asgardian. How will Hawkeye comfort his boss?


Well, this isn't really a romance. It's more of an unfortunate case of comfort?  
I don't know what to call it.

But Hawkeye isn't really himself, please note that. He's exactly what Loki wants him to be - because he's under his control.

Enjoy~

**-ooo-**

"Loki?" The Norse god looked up, unsurprised to see the archer he had recently turned – or, as he enjoyed phrasing it, "opened his eyes to the truth." Ever since they found their new base, the blond had been concerned over his leader. Loki had appeared sickly at first, yet even though color had returned to his face, there was still a pain in him that only the god himself understood.

"Yes Agent Barton?" he replied. He may have wanted to rule the world, but Loki would be polite as long as his subjects were polite and loyal to him. The archer sat down beside him, uninvited. The god allowed it to pass, however, when blue eyes cast a fretful look towards him.

"Clint."

"What?"

"My name, it's Clint. And I just wanted to ask if you were okay," he spoke quietly, not wanting to attract the attention of his comrades. For the most part, other than Dr. Selvig, they were all strangers and were expendable in comparison. Loki regarded the human with question; he had thought to be disguising any emotion besides his ambition, but this one had caught him.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he persisted, "You looked pretty upset about something a second ago. I'm here if you need to talk, sir."

"Well aren't you a little presumptuous mortal?" Loki mused, a smirk gracing his lips. The eyes blue as crystal were looking him over, trying to discern what could be wrong with his leader. Hawkeye said nothing, waiting for him to respond, waiting for something to be said so he wouldn't have to persist any further. He had never been good at interrogations. Tasha was excellent though, and he would normally ask for her help but Black Widow had sided with SHIELD, a foolish decision.

"Fine, if it will put my loyal little solider at ease. I was thinking of my brother," he found himself admitting. Telling a, more or less, mindless little ant would do no harm, surely.

"Your brother? He was the blond guy…Thor?"

"Yes. Have you met him?"

"Yeah, back in New Mexico. He's a great fighter. Definitely someone I wouldn't want to mess with." Loki smiled; yes, that was certainly his brother. It must have been the time Odin banished him, when he met that Jane woman.

"Thor is…more than a fighter. He is spoiled, childish, big-headed, unintelligent, stubborn…and he has this loud, annoying laugh…and the way he smiles just melts you in the most awful way, and his blue eyes are such a deep, piercing blue that seems to drink rather than gaze…and I hate blue so very much…" He trailed off, unwittingly having gone towards the feelings that encumbered the poor god. Hawkeye had listened in silence, but even in his controlled, puppet-like state, it was blatant how Loki felt about his brother.

"So you love him or something?"

"What? Of course no-"

"It's pretty obvious, sir." Loki stared at him, almost in anger. No, he knew better. If he had allowed it to be so obvious, it was better that someone under his command noticed rather than one of those would-be superheroes. In their desperation to defeat him, they might resort to harming his brother or using him as some sort of hostage. The god played pretend that he didn't care, that he didn't love Thor, but every time he hurt him it was in a way he knew the blond could survive. No matter what his plans were, he would never try to kill his beloved.

"Yes," he sighed, "I love him…more than a brother ought to."

"But he doesn't love you." It wasn't a question; Hawkeye knew about their skirmish in New Mexico after Thor had failed to claim his hammer, knew that the siblings weren't on friendly terms.

"No, he considers me his brother. When I saw him last, he wanted me to stop being king, to return to the life we shared before. But he does not understand. There is only so much a man can take – the proximity of brothers, but the longing for lovers…With the knowledge I now hold, we could be so much more."

"What knowledge?"

"It is nothing, Clint."

"But how could it-"

"It is of no consequence to you," he snapped, raising his voice from the murmur he had been keeping. A few pairs of eyes turned towards them, but Hawkeye met their clone gazes with a fierceness that forced them to turn away.

"Just wanted to help, sir," he murmured, his blue hues still daring anyone to look their way.

"…to help?" Even with the archer under his control, it still surprised Loki to hear such a thing. Hawkeye finally looked to him, his expression determined and serious and the intensity of his stare sent a familiar tingle through Loki's body. He had seen such a look several times – in the crisp blue eyes of his brother.

"Yeah, in any way I can." He of course meant killing people, stealing priceless relics, attacking his own SHIELD operatives, whatever it took. But when mischievous eyes looked him over and a chilled hand found itself on the blond's thigh, he understood there was something more that was going to be expected of him.

"Do you mean that, my little soldier?" the stronger being questioned, his tone and expression melting into something more seductive.

"…of course, sir." Hawkeye understood what the silent command was and, as he had said, he would help in any way he could.

"Then come with me, Clint," Loki cooed, his breath hot on the man's ear. He rose to his feet, eyes still looking the mortal over, and strolled out of the main room to a slightly cluttered, forgotten "employee-only" room. It wasn't anything special, but he could fix that easily. By the time the blond followed him into the decrepit room – only seconds, really – it was elegantly decorated to remind Loki of his room back on Asgard, a room he could never return to. But the golden gleam of the walls and floors soothed him, as did the dark green sheets made from the finest Asgard had offered.

"Where do you want me?" the archer questioned, taking in the room with silenced wonder. The god of mischief looked his toy – yes, that was all he was – over in thought. The bed was comfortable and spacious, of course, but a simple mortal such as him didn't deserve that luxury.

"The desk. Lie yourself down on it." He pointed over towards an empty table, off-center in the middle of the room. Without question, the blond strolled over and sat himself down on the smooth surface – a similar action to hopping onto the exam table at a doctor's office. Loki followed him over, watching with an odd sort of pleasure enveloping him as his soldier laid down on the table. He seemed a little uncomfortable, likely not used to being the one in this position. No matter, thought the god of mischief, because he would distract Hawkeye from such discomfort. "Your hands…put them above your head," he commanded. Having laid down as he was told to, Clint stretched his arms above his head, again without question. Some sort of bondage materialized around his wrists and when he tried to pull back, it kept them in place.

"What-"

"I don't like being touched," Loki explained, removing their clothes with a casual wave of his hand. Hawkeye shivered slightly from the sudden air on his skin, but it was quickly covered by the colder flesh of a god. The older man slid his hands up the archer's legs as he pressed against him, practically soaking up the warmth of his body. Being a Frost Giant, rather than an Asgardian, assured him that his lower than normal body temperature was, in fact, normal. Still, it didn't mean that he didn't enjoy the feel of heat against him.

"You'll do just fine," he cooed before he dipped his head down to press a kiss to the blond's torso. He repeated the action once, twice, until his lips trailed their way to an exposed nipple. He took the brown nub into his mouth, grinding it between his teeth. But he could see that it wasn't doing much for the blond's pleasure. No matter, he thought as he moved and shifted until he was straddling Clint's lap.

"Sir, what are you doing?" the man questioned, though he enjoyed the warm, firm ass on his cock as it ground against him.

"I'm going to ride you, little soldier. Now," he brought two of his fingers to the archer's lips, "Suck." Under normal circumstances, Hawkeye would do no such thing. In all honesty, he would never have done any of this. Yet in his controlled state, he couldn't fathom a reason why not. Helping his Sir in such a manner was simple, too easy to do for him. So he parted his lips and took the two fingers into his mouth, his tongue already working saliva along their lengths. Loki watched with hungry eyes as his digits were sucked and caressed by a surprisingly deft mouth.

For a second, he allowed his eyes to close and his imagination take hold. It morphed his soldier into a more familiar, tall, blond Asgardian whose wrists could barely be held in place by the god of mischief's magick. Just imagining such a sight sent him in a delirious lust for pleasure and he ground himself along the other's cock. His brother let out a gruff moan, his blue eyes sliding down from Loki's face down his body to rest on those seductive hips.

He imagined his eager hole was already lubricated and stretched, that he was finally ready to take in the blond's monstrous erection. He guided the tip into him with his free hand before sinking himself further and further downwards until the entire length was swallowed up by his ravished body. As he was filled, he found himself surprised. He had expected the man to be larger, for there to be lasting pain that sent him groaning in his anguish. When he opened his eyes though, he understood.

The god remembered now that he was not with his beloved brother, but the blond Hawkeye. It happened every so often, his tricks getting the better of him. But now the archer was balls deep inside him, a moan being held back as the mortal bit the inside of his cheek – as if the Norse god wouldn't notice.

"Agent Barton," he hissed. Blue eyes met his, nearly as deep as his brother's though it was laced with crystal and the red-rimmed eyes of a soul in turmoil. Deep down, past the "enlightening truth" he had instilled in the soldier, was the original man, the man who would sooner kill him than give him the time of day. If Hawkeye were to ever awaken, he would certainly have a score to settle with the older creature – moreso than the rest of his puppets.

Not that Loki cared, as he had no intention of releasing him. And if he did, it would only be long enough to realize that he had aided in the subjugation of his own planet. Then the god would split his skull, smirking all the while.

"Clint, do you want me to move?" he questioned, pulling his fingers from the archer's mouth to rub his hands up and down the man's torso.

"Yessir," he answered hastily. Rather than being obedient, Loki scraped his nails down his chest to leave bright red lines across his rippling muscles. Hawkeye groaned in pain, being far from a masochist.

Deep down, the god of mischief was a sadist, but was sure he enjoyed pain to a certain extent. If Thor were to ram into him, dry and aching, he was all but certain that he could come just as soon as his brother was balls deep inside him. But that was another fantasy for another place. What mattered was showing this little ant where he was on the food chain.

"You have to ask for it, my little soldier. Beg for me like the pathetic mortal you are," he cooed before leaning down to lick along the line of now stinging flesh. Clint's eyes fluttered closed and his lips pursed together in an effort to silence his groans. He could thrust up into the god, but that would only lead to more pain. No, he had to do as he was told; and why shouldn't he? Loki had said that they were made to be ruled, so why not allow himself to be completely ruled by this creature?

"Please…please sir, ride me."

"Don't you want me to make you come?"

"Yessir…please."

"Do you need it? Do you need me?"

"…sir, I don't-"

"Don't you need me?" Loki repeated, his voice on the edge of a growl. Hawkeye looked confused, but a part of him understood. The Asgardian wanted to be needed, to be desired. Perhaps there was more to it, but to save himself from any pain and to appease his boss the blond he would do what was expected of him.

"Yessir…I need you, sir," he murmured. The god of mischief smirked before he rose up slightly and ground his rear down onto the erection. Clint moaned, once again fighting the urge to thrust upwards. The older man continued his grinding at a slow, cruel pace until his own pleasure became too desperate. He moved faster and faster until he was bouncing along the man's cock, his own bouncing and smacking against the archer's abdomen lightly. Loki leaned back as his hips rose and fell in a nearly unbearable speed, while his hands gripped his lover's thighs to maintain his balance.

The tight forbidden warmth could send him over the edge but with the sight of a lustful god before him, it was a miracle Hawkeye hadn't come yet. Yet, as he was ridden, he was finding it harder and harder to keep himself from reaching the edge.

"Mm…you're almost there," the god panted, "I can feel you…about to come inside me…but we can't have that, can we?" He made no move to stop the blond though, simply continuing his fast-paced ride. Clint assumed his boss wanted him to hold out as long as he could, but the feel, sounds, and taboo of having his cock buried inside the man was proving too much.

"S-sir, I can't-" He had wanted to give an explanation, an apology, a warning – anything really, before he came. But it only took two pools of lust-laden eyes gazing into his own as he bounced for the mortal to surpass his limit. His hips bucked off of the table as he released himself into the god, his hot seed spurting into the likely ungrateful rectum.

"You came after all." Loki said this, a disappointed tone in his voice. Blue eyes trailed down to the older man's crotch, where a still aching erection stood, and Hawkeye seemed to realize his selfishness.

"Sorry sir. I couldn't stop myself. If you give me a minute, I'll be ready again," he said in an effort to appease his leader. For a second, it looked as if the god of mischief would kill him. But then the anger melted into a smile – unsettling as it was, a smile was better than the threat of death. Loki lifted his hips to allow the now flaccid cock to slip from in between his cheeks. Hawkeye watched him warily, especially when he climbed off the archer without making any move to remove the bondage.

"Wh-what are you going to do?" he breathed, dropping down from his short-lived high.

"You," he said, "Now hold your breath for me, my little soldier_._"

"Y-yessir…but why?" Loki suddenly appeared in between his legs, his intent suddenly obvious. He pulled the soldier down a ways so that his ass was on the edge of the table. As he spoke, he lined himself up to be ready.

"I can't have you screaming, can I?" Once the blond clamped his lips shut, the mischievous god plunged into his dry rectum. He bit into his lip to keep quiet hard enough for bright red to blossom from his lower lip. The older man, rather than thrusting again, bent over to press a kiss against the archer's mouth – a kiss that was more like his attempt to devour the man. He sucked on the bleeding petal harshly, biting and licking as he did so. Clint couldn't help but moan against the rough, demanding nature of his boss while he managed to push the pain blooming from his ass.

As Loki's tongue pried itself past those lips his hips began a gentle, almost idle, thrusting. He captured any groans or sounds of pain with his own mouth as his sinful tongue began to grind against the warmer, human muscle. The icy chill of Loki's body was consistent everywhere – from his tongue to his penetrating cock, even his hands sent unwanted shivers down the archer's body.

Still, he responded as best he could with his tongue rubbing up against Loki's own in a show of submission and apparently the desire for more, because the god suddenly stood upright and gave a good, strong slam of his hips. Hawkeye just barely managed to keep his mouth shut as he cried out. And when the older man repeated his thrust, the pain was just as strong. On the third thrust however, something changed. Loki had angled himself differently and by doing so, had found a spot – his prostate, though the mortal didn't know as much – that exploded with pleasure.

"Oh, did you like that?" he teased, his eyes greedily drinking up the sight of his lover arched off the table and his face a mixture of surprise and uninhibited ecstasy. He gave another hard plunge, loving the way his soldier gasped in his slightly broken, hitching breath.

"M-more," he managed past his hand. The Norse deity paused, leaned forward slightly.

"Excuse me? That sounded a lot like a command, little soldier," he said, his voice as threatening as ever. Blue eyes widened in their mistake and Clint shook his head quickly.

"No…no sir. Please…give me more, sir. Please," he begged. He wouldn't normally do this, but he could tell being a desperate submissive was exactly what his boss wanted – and he himself just wanted to come again, he realized as his cock began to fill out again. Loki leaned down again and pressed a slow, forgiving kiss to his lips.

"That's a good boy." And then he began slamming his hips into the blond at a fast pace that barely allowed for Hawkeye's sweet sounds of pleasure – his pants, moans, groans, shaking gasps….

The god of mischief – though he wished for a stronger, older lover whose blond hair he would bury his fingers in and tear at it – found that he was enjoying this human. He could keep him around after he began his rule as some sort of consort. He didn't mind that he came quickly, because in his position he could focus on the delicious expression he was making. The pure enjoyment across his features, his lower lip bit in an effort to retain an otherwise weak-sounding moan, and even the way his back was arched slightly off the table stimulated him enough visually that he was sure he could come within minutes.

"Give it…t-to me," Hawkeye found himself demanding, his shaft full and drooling pre-cum. Loki looked him over, deciding that he would allow the demand this time due to the fact that his lover was completely lost in the whelming pleasure of his prostate being slammed into. He moved slightly faster, his grip on the mortal's thighs tightening enough to bruise his flesh. The blond simply moaned and groaned in his pleasure, trying to keep himself quiet enough so none of the others working for Loki would come investigating.

"A-almost," the god hissed. Suddenly, he pulled out of the archer and stood on his toes to hold both their erections together while he thrust against the mortal man. Clint tried to thrust himself, creating more of that sweet friction until his pleasure spilled out onto his own torso. Loki need only thrust into his hand a few more times before his own climax was reached and with a jerky twitch or two of his hips, his seed shot out far enough to splatter from the soldier's cheek down to the final milking of his cock where the semen simply pooled onto Hawkeye's groin and abdomen.

The god of mischief, panting from his successful efforts, couldn't help but smirk. His cum decorated his lover's chest, claiming him in one of the most primal ways one could do so. After such a pleasing fuck, he was sure he would keep this Agent Barton – no, _Clint_ – as a consort. As long as he remained in his control, of course. And with the sated expression the archer bore, the Norse god was easily assured that the ex-SHIELD member would be under his spell for some time to come.


End file.
